


Forever Evening Star

by angel_of_iego



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_of_iego/pseuds/angel_of_iego
Summary: Rosalyn has left High Rock in search of a life that will bury her past. She has no plan, no destination. She inches ever closer to a quiet life, but her traumas haunt her nights mercilessly.
Kudos: 2





	Forever Evening Star

**Author's Note:**

> This is an early birthday gift for my lovely girl! Eventually this will become a romance between Vanus Galerion and Rosalyn (based on my girlfriend, she has a big crush on Vanny) and some chapters will include mature content.

_ “Rosalyn, please.” _

The ache left behind by two simple words pounded at Rosalyn’s mind. Her closed eyes darted back and forth, searching for the source.

_ “Come home.” _

The shaking of her hands was almost surely not caused by the snow beneath her. She wanted to run after the familiar voice, but darkness ruled her. Twisting and turning merely brought a different angle of black. Though Rosalyn was only partially aware of these events, her mouth attempted a response. Still, her body failed her.

_ “Please, Rosy. I miss you.” _

Rosalyn bolted up in her bedroll. Her panting cast her breath in the air illuminated by the dying firelight. Anything beyond what was right in front of her was bathed in more darkness.

“Just a dream,” Rosalyn assured herself. “Just another dream.” Like always, she shifted her focus onto her breathing, counting as she inhaled and exhaled until she reached a calm state. Figuring there was too much of a risk in going back to sleep, Rosalyn lifted herself off the ground and began to collect what little belongings she had. Her fingers were numb as she knocked the snow from her bedroll, making it difficult to tie it and secure it to her pack. For a fleeting moment, her mind played with the idea of returning to High Rock. She yearned for the grass and warm water that Eastmarch just didn’t provide. However, what Eastmarch could provide heavily outweighed that: a fresh start.

Rosalyn adjusted her pack to sit more comfortably on her shoulders before stepping up to the lick of fire that remained. The only item left for Rosalyn to retrieve was her old tankard, sitting comfortably near the heat and filled halfway with day old water. She lifted it, examining the handmade marks in the metal. They were sloppy, incomprehensible, and not at all pleasing to the eye. Rosalyn smiled, letting her fingertips brush across the indented designs, then brought the tankard up and used its contents to extinguish the small flames.

“Happy birthday, Gwynyna.”

___

Days of wandering the snowy expanse of Eastmarch finally led Rosalyn to Windhelm. She found the stone of the city to be a welcome change. Even the simple sound her boots made as she navigated the cold streets was like music. The City of Kings surely was a lot to take in. As she searched for an inn, Rosalyn found herself distracted by the abundance of life elevating the mid afternoon energy. She had only seen the inside of a couple cities throughout her entire lifetime; to say she was in awe was an understatement. She was simply overwhelmed by the locals, and she couldn’t help but feel a tad out of place for being sober. From what she read of Nords though, this seemed to be common practice.

Rosalyn’s fingers played with the few gold pieces in her pocket, her soul praying to Stendarr that it was enough to buy a night in a warm room. When she finally caught sight of the Cold Moon Inn she entered eagerly. A relief from the bitter air and drunk populace, or so she thought. More wasted Nords filled the inn. Rosalyn deducted that they were all attempting to sing together, but it seemed they all thought of a different song.

“Can I get ya a mug of mead?” Rosalyn met the eyes of a blonde woman behind the counter, her kind face awaiting an answer.

“No, thank you. Actually, I was hoping for a room.” 

The woman nodded, slamming a wooden mug down and filling it to the brim with their most beloved drink. “Here ya go!”

“No, no,” Rosalyn called out above the singing, waving her hands at the innkeeper. “No mead, just a room. I hope this will be enough.” She pulled the gold pieces from her coat and presented them to the woman. 

“Yeah, sure,” the Nord replied, sliding the mug towards Rosalyn. “Two gold. One for the room, one for some mead.”

Rosalyn grinned, the warmth of the Divines washing over her. “A-are you sure? That seems rather low.”

The woman grabbed up two gold coins from Rosalyn’s palm, motioning for her to put away the last. “It’s New Life after all.”

“Thank you,” Rosalyn remarked with a slight bow of her head. The woman once again pushed the mead towards her, then made for the stairs on the other end of the room. Rosalyn quickly retrieved the mug and followed the Nord. Mead began to spill out onto her hand and the floor as she made her way through the celebrants, her lips attempting to save some by sipping cautiously. Her taste buds were pleasantly surprised with the drink, the hints of high quality honey filling her cheeks. By the time she and the innkeeper made it to the top of the stairs her mug had lost more than half its alcohol. Rosalyn wasn’t sure how much was on the floor and how much was in her stomach, but she was determined to make sure the remaining sips belonged only to her. 

“Our last room,” the woman announced, motioning her hand toward the nearest door. “You’re quite the lucky one. This is one of Windhelm’s busiest times of the year. Rooms fill up fast.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Rosalyn told the woman again. “This really means a lot to me.”

“Call me Alva.” She smiled as she opened the door to Rosalyn’s temporary oasis. “And it’s no problem. I can tell you’ve traveled a long way. I’m happy to help.”

Rosalyn gave another small bow before heading into her room, Alva closing the door gently behind her. With her newfound privacy, Rosalyn took the rest of the mead in one large swallow, setting the mug aside on the table near the bed. Lowering her pack from her shoulders felt better than it had any other night since leaving Stormhaven. Something about being inside four sturdy walls managed to relax her muscles almost completely. Rosalyn thought she may never again get to ignore her bedroll to rest comfortably on some real furniture. Sinking into the inn’s bed brought her body, mind, and soul a sense of relief she hadn’t known in years, despite the noise from the crowd below. She didn’t hesitate to kick off her boots and climb under the blanket. Her eyes remained closed as she situated herself in the bedding, and once she was still she fell into a deep sleep almost instantaneously. 

_ “How could you just leave me like that?” _

Rosalyn gasped as she woke, scanning the room for another living soul. She found only loneliness. Rosalyn sighed as her eyes adjusted to the warmly dim sun shining through the window across the room, the hue indicating twilight. She would have been convinced she’d only slept a matter of minutes if not for the silence in the building. The drunk Nords were gone, resting at home, no doubt. Rosalyn’s mind struggled with the fact that she was seeing the sun of dawn and not dusk. 

“I must have been exhausted,” Rosalyn said aloud to herself. She stretched her sore limbs through the coolness of the bed, wishing she could remain in that spot for the rest of her days. With a sigh she brought herself up, securing her boots to her feet and fitting her pack on her shoulders once again. She was reaching for the empty mug when Alva’s voice called from outside the room.

“Oh, little Breton girl!”

Rosalyn leapt over to the door and swung it open. “Good morning, Alva.”

“Slept well, I hope?” Rosalyn nodded, handing the mug to Alva without a word. “Good, because I was hoping to ask you something.”

“I can head out now, I’m all packed up.” Rosalyn made for the exit when Alva put up her arm as a barricade.

“No, no, silly Breton girl. I wanted to offer you long term residence.”

Rosalyn wore her shock clear upon her face as she met Alva’s eyes. “Long term? I’m afraid I can’t afford that.”

Alva smiled softly. “Which is why I was also going to offer you work. You seemed to enjoy your mead last night, and my dumb and rowdy customers didn’t scare ya off. Perfect qualities for a helper here.”

“I’ve never worked at an inn before,” Rosalyn admitted. “In fact, I’ve never worked anywhere.”

Alva waved her hands through the air dismissively. “Who cares? I’ve got a good feeling about you. Plus, where will you go if you leave Windhelm now? One piece of gold won’t get you very far.”

Rosalyn looked down toward her pocket where her final bit of currency rested. Part of her wanted to turn down the charitable act and make do on her own, but the rest of her knew Alva was right. She needed this place. Plus, she wanted to repay Alva for her kindness in some way. 

“Well?” Alva prodded.

Rosalyn couldn’t keep the smile from her lips as she accepted the offer. After years of traveling Tamriel with no planned destination, she finally had a place to settle down. Perhaps she would even come to call Windhelm home someday. 

“I’m glad. Now get that pack off ya and meet me downstairs so I can show you where we keep the mead.” Alva began to walk off when she stopped and turned suddenly. “Oh, I can’t just call you ‘Breton girl’ forever. You have a name?”

“Rosalyn.”

“Rosalyn what?”

“Just Rosalyn,” she replied, setting her pack down on the end of the bed. “I have no family name.” She was relieved when Alva accepted this fact and continued on her way. Rosalyn wasn’t exactly in the mood to discuss her life’s details, even if it was with the only person who may call her a friend.

Before officially beginning her day at the inn, Rosalyn took a moment for herself. She reached into her pack and removed her tankard. Once again she danced her fingertips across the markings, smiling lightly at her only sentimental possession. She placed it on the dresser so that it faced her bed. She knew that keeping it around may only encourage her nightmares, but that was a price she was willing to pay.


End file.
